Eliot's Dreams
by Tanya Reed
Summary: Eliot dreams of Sophie


"Eliot."

His name on her lips was soft, the touch of her fingers feather light against his skin. His breath caught as the warm, dark sunshine of her hair brushed across his stomach when she placed a kiss to the slope of his hip.

Lost. He was lost in sensation. Lips and tongue and fingertips. Her hair and her scent and the strength of a smile that could make his knees go weak.

Her kisses ghosted up the planes of his chest, and her hands followed them, firmer and trailing fire.

"Sophie," he groaned, reaching for her, hearing her quiet laugh as she melted against him.

Eliot woke abruptly. This was where he almost always woke; it was rare for his dream to play itself out to the end. When it did, he woke up shuddering, reaching for her, dazed and confused.

He forced air in and out of his lungs, blinking at the harsh morning light that stabbed his eyes through the open curtain. Usually, he was awake long before it reached this angle—awake and gone—but the day before had been a long one, and he'd stumbled in, exhausted, after five. It was always when he was the most drained or the most vulnerable or when someone on the team had narrowly avoided death that he dreamed of her. It was both a comfort and a curse as his mind played out in sleep what he didn't even dare to think when he was awake.

With a sigh, Eliot sat up, rubbing a hand wearily over his stubbled face. Sophie was in love with Nate. From the start, he'd known that was true—that it would always be true. It was easy to accept as he watched the two of them together, especially now, when they were rushing headlong into something neither of them could fight. The end game would be Nate and Sophie. Nate would be the one who made her face light up and made her smile the smile that haunted Eliot's dreams.

Eliot couldn't deny that Nate made Sophie happy, and there was no way he would interfere with that. He liked seeing her happy. If he couldn't do that for her, at least Nate could.

But there were still the dreams. His subconscious was always quick to remind him of the feelings he wasn't supposed to have and show him what it would be like if it were him she wanted.

Sometimes, when she got too close, he couldn't stop himself from breathing deeply to take in the scent of her hair. Her light touch on his arm could give him goosebumps, and he loved to hear her say his name. It was all he had but, most of the time, it was enough.

After his dreams was not one of those times. They opened his mind and let him acknowledge his feelings. It was only here, in this room alone, that he could admit them to himself. Here, he could wonder what it would be like if there were no Nate or if Eliot had met Sophie some other way. He could see her eyes sparkle when she saw his face and feel the softness of her kiss against his cheek.

As soon as he left his room, it was all gone. Eliot tucked it into a place in his mind—in his heart—that was hidden away. He pretended it didn't exist, and he dealt with the pain of that as he did with every other hurt he endured. Pain was an old friend.

Still, the universe would have to forgive him if he sat or stood a little too close to her or he teased her just to hear her say his name. He was only human, and Sophie Devereaux was like the sun.

He let his mind linger just a little longer on the memory of the gentle curve of her neck and the way his stomach felt when he heard her real laugh.

Sophie was strong, soft, sexy, and stunning, but she wasn't his.

Eliot groaned quietly before shoving all thoughts of her from his mind and throwing off his covers. A long shower was in order, followed by at least an hour of meditation. By then, he should be ready to meet the day and the new client Nate had scheduled for four.

As Eliot crossed the room, he thought he heard a faint rustling behind him. He turned to see her lying in his bed, smiling, with the black sheet tucked loosely around her chest.

"It's okay," she said gently, her expression kind.

"I know."

He spoke matter-of-factly, but somehow her words made it so. They always did, even though she was never really there.


End file.
